Taylor Swift + Comfort Oneshots

In too Deep - Part 2

TW // Eating disorder - major ED talk, attitudes and resistance. Read with caution my loves.

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Lying on the couch in her New York apartment, Taylor's eyes opened before quickly squeezing them shut again, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to her like cobwebs. The memory of her vision blurring backstage, the deafening roar of the crowd turning into a distant hum, then the terrifying emptiness before the darkness, was a stark reminder of the war raging within her. Now, the once-inviting expanse of her bedroom felt like a sterile cage, the silence broken only by the soft beeps of the IV drip Tree had insisted on setting up in the living room.

Tree, her ever-present guardian angel, bustled in with a tray laden with fresh fruit, yogurt, and a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs. "Good morning, sleepyhead," Tree chirped, her usual sunny disposition dimmed by a veil of worry. "How're you feeling?"

Taylor mumbled something unintelligible, her throat dry as sandpaper. Tree placed a cool hand on her forehead. "Fever's gone, that's good. Now, come on, superstar. You need some fuel to get your energy back."

The word "fuel" sparked a flicker of rebellion within Taylor. Fuel for what? More concerts, more scrutiny, more lies? She forced her eyes open, the sight of the food churning her stomach. "I'm not hungry," she croaked, her voice raspy.
Tree's smile faltered for a brief moment, then returned, albeit a little strained.

"Taylor, honey, you fainted in your dressing room after the concert. Your body needs the energy to recover."

"I just need sleep," Taylor insisted, burrowing deeper into the pillows, a desperate attempt to escape the impending battle. Sleep. The only time the gnawing emptiness within her subsided, replaced by a blissful oblivion.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken concern. Finally, Tree sighed. "Travis called. He's worried sick. Wishes he could be here."

Travis was across the country for a crucial away game. Texting wasn't enough, not when she craved the comfort of his strong arms and unwavering support. It was a support she desperately needed right now, but one she couldn't bring herself to ask for, not if it meant him knowing the truth.

A choked sob escaped her lips. Tree, ever perceptive, hurried to her side, gathering her in a warm embrace. Tears streamed down Taylor's face, hot and relentless. "I can't do this anymore, Tree," she whispered, her voice choked with despair.

Tree held her tighter, stroking her hair. "Hey, shhh," she soothed. "You're not alone. We'll figure this out, together."

The day crawled by like a snail on sleeping pills. By evening, Taylor felt a sliver of her strength return. Tree, her face etched with concern, appeared at the bedroom door. "Dinner time, sweetheart. Come on down."

Taylor's stomach lurched. Food. The very thought of it filled her with dread. It was a battle she'd waged countless times before, always emerging victorious, the emptiness a perverse badge of honor. "I'm not really..."

"No arguments," Tree cut her off, her voice firm but laced with an underlying tenderness. "You need to eat, Taylor. This isn't up for debate."

The walk downstairs felt like an arduous trek. Tree sat her at the dining table, a simple meal of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables laid out before her. The aroma, usually enticing, now felt cloying, suffocating.

"I can't," Taylor whispered, pushing the plate away, a silent plea for reprieve.

Tears streamed down Taylor's face, blurring the vision of the perfectly arranged meal on the table. Each vibrant vegetable and golden piece of chicken mocked her, a stark reminder of the battle raging within. Tree watched her silently, the concern in her eyes a familiar mirror to Taylor's own turmoil.